A Baby at Alver
by Queen Eleni
Summary: This is another short story following the characters of Heyer's "Frederica." Takes place about 18 months after my previous fic, "A Wedding at Alver." Join the Dauntry/Merriville gang as Alverstoke adjusts to fatherhood, Jessamy experiences calf-love, and Felix refrains from blowing up anything. For now.
1. Chapter 1

A shrill scream pierced the quiet of midnight. The Marquis cursed inwardly; he had been on the verge of falling asleep and now he would undoubtedly have to endure an hour of such powerful cries before the baby wore itself out and left the household to sleep in peace. How did such a puny thing have such powerful lungs? And why, oh why, had they not put the nursery as far as possible from the master bedchamber?

He turned and cracked an eye open to look at his wife. Frederica was stirring, and no doubt was on the verge of getting up to make her way to the nursery. He stretched out an arm to grasp her hand.

"Nurse will see to it," he said groggily.

"But Nurse can't calm Baby as fast as I can," moaned Frederica, her eyes still shut as she began to crawl out from under the covers. "And what if Lufra decides that the house is under attack like he did last week, and poor Jessamy has to chase him all over the house and restrain him? The poor boy only came down from Oxford yesterday and he needs his rest after all that studying!"

Two thoughts flitted quickly through Alverstoke's mind; firstly, that his wife had not called him a "poor boy" when _he_ had had to chase Lufra all over the house last week; and secondly, that Jessamy was bound to spend the vacation studying whether he needed a rest or not and whether his dog kept him up nights or not. But paramount was the thought that this was the fourth night in a week that Frederica had lost most of her night's sleep in comforting the abominable brat during the great Teething Crisis, and that if she lost any more sleep the dark patches under her eyes might become permanent.

"Stay here," he commanded, rolling on his side and forcibly preventing her from getting up. "I'll see to Baby. You sleep."

"You'll see to Baby?" she asked in incredulity, opening both eyes wide. "Are you sure –"

"Yes, I am sure, and I won't drop Baby or do any other damage. You seem to forget that my parenting skills have already exceeded your expectations and that I ought to be perfectly capable of doing whatever it is you do that makes Baby stop screeching."

She eyed him dubiously, but slowly pulled the covers back over her. "If you insist," she said slowly, "but don't frighten Nurse out of her wits, if you can help it."

"It is very lowering whenever I consider how completely incompetent you think I am," he complained as he threw on a dressing gown and headed for the nursery.

But Frederica was nearly always right. Nurse Jenkins did give a frightened start when the Marquis appeared in the nursery clad in nightshirt, dressing gown, and slippers, his hair uncombed and with a hint of stubble on his chin. Alverstoke realized ruefully that she probably couldn't immediately recognize him without his impeccable clothing and carefully arranged coiffure. But she was not a foolish woman, and only took a few seconds to recover her composure.

"Your Lordship!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper as she rose from the rocking chair with the screaming blanket-bundled baby still in her arms. "Whatever are you- oh, I am so sorry that you were wakened, my Lord, but Baby's teeth!"

"It's quite alright, Mrs. Jenkins, I have come to relieve you of your charge." As he took the bundle from her, he smiled at the look of shock that spread over her face. "If it weren't me, it would be my wife, and we both know she cannot go much longer with such nights as these. Do go back to your chamber, and I will try to calm Baby."

She cast him a look of misgiving, but had no choice other than to obey. Thus it was that the Marquis of Alverstoke was left alone with his firstborn offspring.

"Well, brat?" he yawned as he sat down in the chair and positioned the baby in his arms. He rearranged the blankets so that he could clearly see the infant's enraged red face and rumpled mess of brown curls. He jiggled the baby experimentally, but the screaming only seemed to intensify. He sighed and sat back, prepared for hours of torment. Well, not hours. If the baby didn't stop crying, he supposed Frederica would show up eventually.

"You know, you are rather a bothersome child," he said conversationally, continuing to look down at the baby. "I thought Felix and Jessamy were troublesome enough, but you've taken the prize. First you make Frederica actually _moody_, and as big as a house besides. Then there was the day you were born, with my beloved wife screaming words I didn't think she knew. And although I do suspect she was quite pleased with you, you did seem to disappoint her when you turned out not to be a boy. My sisters were rather put out too and never stopped expressing it. You were meant to cut your cousin Endymion out of the inheritance, and instead of the Viscount of Branthington, heir to the Marquis of Alverstoke, we had to make do with Lady Margaret Harriet Elizabeth Dauntry. I didn't care, of course. Because I'll be dead if Endymion does inherit in the end, and I'm far too selfish to care about other people's disappointments. So while my sisters may poke up their noses, I bear you no ill-will for being a mere female. In fact, I'm rather fond of you when you aren't preventing the entire house from sleeping. Even your uncles find you rather interesting when you aren't crying. I know that cutting teeth is a painful business, or at least I assume it is, but you don't seem to understand that making the rest of us miserable will not alleviate your misery. But I suppose that rational argumentation won't work on you; you're really not quite up to snuff yet."

He paused, realizing that the bundle was no longer emitting any noise except for a soft gurgle. His own eyelids had begun to droop; he blinked and saw that Lady Margaret was regarding him with a quite serious expression in the eyes so like her mother's. It was that same look that came over Frederica's face when she was pondering something. They were both utterly silent for a minute, each gravely looking at the other. And then the infant curled one side of her mouth in something resembling a smile, nestled a red cheek against the Marquis' dressing gown, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

Alverstoke regarded her in astonishment. He had been in the room less than ten minutes, and the brat had not only ceased her wailing, but had actually fallen asleep! Would wonders never cease? He got up to place Lady Margaret in her cot and to return to his own bed, but his pleasure was short-lived. As he gently laid the baby down, he heard a loud bark, some kind of banging noise, a loud swear, and more barking. Glancing apprehensively down, he saw that Lady Margaret had opened one eye and that her face was beginning to pucker up and redden. He lifted her up again, hoping to stem the tide of tears. She seemed undecided as how to proceed. There was barking, the sound of a slamming door, and the mingling of paws and slippered feet in the hallway. A moment later, the door to the nursery flung wide, and Lufra lunged into the room, tail wagging vigorously, with a groggy and clearly frustrated Jessamy behind him.

"Oh, Alverstoke!" he exclaimed with a look of surprise, as Lufra ran to his lordship's side and attempted to gain a sniff of Lady Margaret, who had still not decided whether or not to cry. Alverstoke sat down once more with his daughter and sighed, looking up at Jessamy in weary resignation.

"I'm ever so sorry," said Jessamy, running a hand through disheveled dark hair. "Luff was silent all through the crying, and then as soon as she stopped, he seemed to think something was the matter and panicked! He wouldn't stop barking and scratching to be let out, so I had to open the door, and then he rushed down here and wouldn't leave till I had opened the nursery door, and well – now he seems fine! I thought you said last week Lufra was panicked by the crying?"

"Apparently the Baluchistan hound has decided that crying normal, and that the cessation of the abhorrent noise is a signal that some intruder has done away with the brat," said Alverstoke, a hint of amusement in his otherwise annoyed voice. "And he had to be reassured of her safety. What an intelligent animal! How grateful we must be for his constant vigilance!"

"Well, I'm glad Meg hasn't started crying again, but I am truly sorry I couldn't manage Luff," said Jessamy, still apologetic as he collapsed into another chair and watched Lufra as the canine set his head on Alverstoke's knee in order to better regard the perfectly sound infant. Lady Margaret, who had never shown the least fear of the enormous dog, gurgled and waved a fist at his head.

"Now really, Jessamy, don't start yearning for penance on your first night – or is it morning- home! I will not have forgiveness wrangled out of me at this hour, not even for the sake of _your_ conscience!"

Jessamy laughed. "No, it would be too bad of me, sir. But I didn't really expect to find you here with Meg. Where's Frederica?"

"Asleep in bed, I should hope. She was not easily persuaded to let me come in her place. I must say Jessamy, I am disappointed that not even you think me capable of managing my own child."

"Well, sir, you are the most complete hand, but I didn't think your expertise extended to babies," admitted Jessamy with a twinkle in the back of his eyes. It was a relief, thought Alverstoke, to see that in the past year and a half Jessamy had not only become more capable of enduring mockery of himself, but had gained enough confidence to occasionally mock his mentor. Oxford had been good for him, and though he was still only eighteen, he had all the makings of an excellent young man about him. _Far more than I did at eighteen_, thought Alverstoke wryly.

The door opened again, and Frederica stepped in, the third now in the room with dressing gown and slippers and disheveled hair. Alverstoke groaned and kept his arms even more firmly about his daughter, whose fingers were now very slowly stroking Lufra's furry forehead as her eyelids became heavy with sleep again.

"Frederica, go back to bed!" her husband whispered as loudly as he could. "She is very nearly asleep again. Good God, did you think I had accidentally killed her? I got her to sleep in ten minutes, and you assume something must be wrong."

"No, of course I didn't think you had killed her," Frederica whispered back. "I had fallen asleep myself, then I heard Lufra and thought that might set Baby off again." She crossed the room, smiling at Jessamy, and perched on the arm of the rocking chair to look down at Lady Margaret. "I must say, I am most impressed, Vernon, and shall never doubt your abilities again." She leaned down to kiss his cheek and added, brightly, "Well, now every time she cries in the middle of the night I shall send you to comfort her!"

She rose again and bent to peck Jessamy on the forehead as she left the room. "I shall leave Baby in capable hands. Goodnight, dear Jessamy, we are so glad you are home."

Alverstoke looked at the door as it closed softly behind her, his brow furrowed. "Do you know Jessamy, I begin to wonder if this was your sister's plan from the outset. Show doubt in my baby-handling abilities until I was determined to prove myself, then hand over all responsibility to me. It is remarkably similar to how I got saddled with you all in the first place."

Jessamy laughed, called Lufra to heel, and everyone went to bed at last.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Jessamy went out to call upon the Reverend Lawrence Trevor and his family. He had little difficulty in convincing his younger brother to accompany him. Felix had recently read something about steam power in a scientific journal that he wished to share with Miss Leighton, whose family permanently resided at the parsonage. Over breakfast the brothers argued about whether they ought to walk or to ride. Felix, who did not like to ride, said that as there had not been rain in a week the ground would be quite dry and it wasn't really so very cold. Jessamy pointed out that walking would take much longer and that the clouds signified that it might very well rain as they were traveling. Frederica watched in amusement as what would have erupted into a very heated discussion two years ago fizzled into a compromise as Jessamy agreed to stop and see all that Felix wished to show him in his laboratory on the way back if they took the quicker mode of travel.

They were halfway to the parsonage when Jessamy spotted another two riders headed towards them in the opposite direction. He recognized neither horses nor riders, and as they slowed to a trot he asked Felix if he had seen them before.

"Oh, I think it's Saphirra Bellingham and her groom," said Felix dismissively. "She likes to ride about nearly every day, if the weather's good. Cass says it's because she thinks she looks very becoming on horseback."

Jessamy had no notion as to who Saphirra Bellingham was, but as the riders pulled up next to each other, he had to concede that she did indeed look very becoming on horseback. Miss Saphirra Bellingham, though, probably looked becoming in whatever position she found herself. Jessamy stared at her as though beholding a vision. Growing up with the lovely Charis Merriville for a sister had, he thought, made him somewhat immune to the exterior charms of young women. He was wrong. The girl before him, sitting upon a magnificent bay horse and wearing a perfectly tailored rose-colored habit, was the incarnation of a dream. She had snow-white skin, perfectly chiseled features, rosy red lips and large blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes. Her hair fell in black curls from an elaborate arrangement beneath the jaunty cap that matched her habit; and he could tell that her figure was both slender and womanly. He felt his jaw slacken, and quickly called himself back to reality before he began to gape.

Felix, seeing his brother's besotted state, could not help but grin as he greeted Miss Bellingham.

"Master Felix," she said in a bell-like voice and with a nod of her head, "how delightful to meet you here! I do not often see you riding. And you simply must introduce me to your companion; I believe we have not met?"

"Hullo, Miss Bellingham," said Felix. "This is my brother Jessamy. He's up at Oxford, so you wouldn't have met him yet. Jessie, this is Miss Bellingham. She's a cousin of the Gilberts, you know them, and just came to stay with them in October."

Jessamy didn't even think to chastise Felix for calling him _Jessie_. He bowed his head to Miss Bellingham and murmured a greeting.

"Oh, so you are the famous Mr. Jessamy Merriville!" exclaimed Miss Bellingham with a glinting, lovely laugh. "Your family speaks of you so often, and everyone at the parsonage as well! I hear you are doing ever so well at Oxford!"

"Oh! Well, I – that is, I do try my best," said Jessamy, astonished that this divine creature should have heard of him, and cursing himself for such a stupid reply.

"I shall be delighted to make your further acquaintance, I am sure. I must be off, for my aunt does worry so whenever I go out riding, but I simply adore the fresh air, don't you? Are you off to the parsonage? What dear people the Trevors are. And the Leightons, of course! Cassandra Leighton is such a whimsical little creature, I'm sure I never know what she will say next. Give her my regards, won't you Felix?"

And then she and her groom were off, and Jessamy was left astride his horse, feeling as though he had not breathed for the last two minutes.

"What fustian!" exclaimed Felix as soon as they had started again and Miss Bellingham was out of earshot. "She and Cass detest each other. I daresay she just wants to get a rise out of Cass. Well, I won't be giving her any regards, as I don't want Cass to bite my head off."

"Why doesn't Cassandra like her?" asked Jessamy, coming back to earth. "She seems very nice."

"Oh, I dunno," shrugged Felix, who at fifteen was not well-versed in the ways of female friendships. "I think it's because since they're the same age everyone expected them to be great friends, but they're not at all alike or even interested in the same things. And at parties, you know, Cass gets invited to all these grown-up parties now she's put her hair up, all the boys ogle Saphirra and ignore Cass, who they all used to treat like a friend. And she says parties are ever so dull because she just sits there while everyone makes up to Saphirra."

Yes, Jessamy could see some logic in this. Cassandra was a friendly, kind girl, but neither pretty nor accomplished, and Miss Bellingham would outshine anyone. Not that any blame could be laid at Miss Bellingham's door; it wasn't her fault that she was divinely beautiful. Perhaps Cassandra was even jealous of her, which would of course make things awkward between them. But no, that couldn't be, for the Cassandra Leighton he knew was not the jealous type. She probably just didn't like going to parties regardless of Miss Bellingham's presence; she'd rather be climbing trees.

They arrived at the parsonage not long after, and as they led their horses around to the stables, they were greeted by two small boys, who ran out around the hedge breathlessly.

"Hullo Jessamy!" said Jimmy Leighton in an exaggerated whisper. "Don't act like you see us, we're running away from Cass, and she'll box our ears if she finds us! Come on, Charlie!"

And with that they disappeared into the stables with the groom and the horses. Felix and Jessamy both laughed as they made their way to the house. They had nearly reached the door when Miss Leighton came running around the corner, her cheeks flushed and her hair askew.

"Have you seen them, Felix?" she demanded. "Those two brats of brothers, they took the lace ribbons off my new gown and tied them all around the cat's neck and ears, and of course she swatted them off and the lace is ruined, and Mama will be furious with me because I left the gown out instead of locking it in the wardrobe like I should have. Oh, hello Jessamy."

She stopped fuming once she became aware of Jessamy's presence and held out her hand. He took it, saying in return, "Hello, Cassandra. It's good to see you again. They're in the stables. But don't tell them I told you, or they'll hate me forever."

"Jessamy, it _is_ good to see you again too," she said, giving him a quick and impulsive hug before she darted off to the stables.

Jessamy was slightly flushed as the maid ushered them into the parlor. No, Cassandra Leighton was not precisely pretty nor at all ladylike. But she had grown up in some way since the summer holidays. With long skirts, and her hair up, even with much of it falling out of its pins, and her suddenly feminine form, it had taken a moment for him to recognize her. He berated himself. First he had been caught gaping at Miss Bellingham, and now he was blushing because Cassandra Leighton, his little brother's best friend, had hugged him? What on earth was coming over him?

He was warmly greeted by the parson and his wife, as well as Mrs. Leighton and Mr. Simon Trevor, the parson's third son who was had taken orders some years ago and was Alver parish's resident curate. Jessamy had struck up friendships with nearly all of the Trevor family, but most particularly with Reverend Trevor, who had taken Jessamy under his wing from the first. Mrs. Trevor and Mrs. Leighton were both overflowingly kind women, though the mother had rather more sense than the daughter, and they were friends with all the world. Simon Trevor was less open, a stiff and rather reserved young man of around thirty years. He had been engaged to the eldest Miss Gilbert for the last two years and said he was "waiting to be settled" before they got married. Cassandra had once let slip that she wasn't sure whether this meant he was waiting for the Leighton family to remove themselves from the parsonage or for her grandfather to die. Either way, she said, Miss Gilbert was going to have to wait a long time to get that ring on her finger.

As the tea tray came out, so did Cassandra, her dress and hair tidied up and a look of grim satisfaction on her face. Jessamy assumed that Jimmy and Charlie were both suffering from sore ears. She sat primly down beside Jessamy on the sofa and proceeded to pepper him with questions about his term at Oxford. He fell quite easily back into their habit of conversing, but when he had finished explaining his struggles with the Greek language, Felix lost patience, swallowed his cake, and began to tell Cassandra all about the new bit of scientific knowledge he had obtained. Jessamy turned to listen politely to the chattering Mrs. Leighton who appeared to be having something of an argument with her parents.

"Of course, she really is too young to be out, we've talked about this before, Mama, but you know she's not going to learn to be a lady if I keep in the schoolroom till she's thirty, so I think it's better for her to go about the neighborhood gatherings early and she'll learn how to behave from _experience_. Papa, I'm sure you agree with me, you were always saying to us that experience is the best teacher, and how she is supposed to learn to behave when all she does is play with the boys and learn classical languages with you? I only can get her to practice music _at all_ by threatening to cut off her Latin lessons if she doesn't and she has no _examples_ of proper young ladies in this household, it's better if she can go to parties and of observe the behavior of young women like Miss Gilbert or that _charming_ Miss Bellingham, who is only a year older than her but so much more refined!"

Here she paused to draw breath and the elder Mr. Trevor smiled at Jessamy, saying, "Now, you see how my daughter is all in a flutter about Cassandra's education, and is most upset with me for teaching classics to the girl. What is your opinion on female education Jessamy? Music and stitchery?"

Nobody had asked Jessamy such a question before and he was hesitant to answer. "Well, I suppose most girls need to learn that sort of thing, but – well, if Miss Leighton likes learning other things, I don't see what harm there is in it. I mean, one must occupy one's time with something and girls aren't allowed to go off to Oxford or Cambridge, so if they want to improve their minds at home…"

"I think you do wrong to encourage these whims of Cassandra's, Father," said Simon Trevor gravely. "There is nothing wrong in a girl being clever, of course, but of what use is such knowledge to her? She will simply become puffed up in her own achievements, and such a lack of modesty is most unbecoming in a young woman."

"Well, I have never seen Cass puffed up in her life, so I'll teach her as long as she likes," said Mr. Trevor jovially. "Now, Jessamy, tell me all about your studies."

As they were leaving the parsonage, Cassandra walked with them to their horses.

"The lace?" Jessamy asked.

"Mama is going to kill me, but at least I got to box the boys' ears and they promised they would take the blame for it. Anyway, I'd rather have plain ribbons than lace ones; no use dressing up mutton like lamb." She smiled widely. "I'm to wear the gown to the Christmas dance at the Gilberts' next week. Are you two coming?"

Felix snorted, "Am I likely? Do they even invite fifteen year-old boys to dances?"

"Oh, but Jessamy will be invited, won't you? Please come, then I won't be bored to pieces!"

"Saphirra Bellingham will be there," Felix mentioned in an attempt at nonchalance. Jessamy glared at him before returning a smile to Cassandra and assuring her that he would be there if he was invited, and would dance with her if she didn't mind her toes being stepped on.

"Famous! But when did you meet Saphirra? Didn't you just arrive yesterday?" she asked uncertainly, a slight frown marring her normally cheerful expression.

"Oh we met her riding here. You know her, always dragging that poor groom all over the county with her," said Felix. He added, "She completely bowled over Jessamy."

"She did not!" Jessamy protested. "I was just being polite."

Felix snorted again and they took their leave. Cassandra waved goodbye, but there was still a small frown in her eyes as they followed the figures on horseback. She then returned to the house to break the tragedy of the lace ribbons to her mother.


End file.
